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THE ME-NE-HU-NES 




OR. WALTER R. STEIHER 
liAN. 2a 1943 



Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive 
in 2011 witii funding from 
Tine Library of Congress 



littp://www.arcliive.org/details/meneliunesOOdaye 




J THE MENEHUNES 



THEIR ADVENTURES WITH 
THE FISHERMAN AND HOW 
THEY BUILT THE CANOE 



EMILY FOSTER DAY 



ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
SPENCER WRIGHT 





Copyright J 1905 

by Paul Elder and Company 

San Francisco 



The Tomoye Press 
San Francisco 



LC Control Number 




tmp96 026211 



^ 



Let me introduce to you The Me-ne-hu- 
nes. Every one in Hawaii knows theyn^ 
and now that they are ''annexed'' to the 
United States^ with the rest of the beautiful 
little country^ and are goody loyal Ameri- 
canSy you should know them too. 

'To the best of my knowledge none of ??iy 
friends — even my Hawaiian friends — 
have actually seen the mysterious little 
people of the rocks, but the ancient folk- 
lore of the islands is full of tales of their 
wonderful works ; and if any one wants 
more proof — why, there is the great water- 
course of Kauai, cut through the solid 
rock, — no man knows by whom else, — and 
the Hill of the Shrimps where the Mene- 
hunes received their reward from good 
King Ola and his wise high priest. But 
that would make another tale. — E. F. D. 




K 




The Menehunes 



Some one had committed a mon- 
strous crime! Deep in the heart of 
the forest of Hilo one of the gigantic 
old koa trees, whose leaves were shaped 
like the new moon, lay prone on the 
ground, its mighty branches crushed, 
its sturdy roots hacked and torn from 
the soil. 

For hours it had lain in the blister- 
ing heat of the tropical sun, its life-sap 
dripping from the ragged wounds, its 
beautiful leaves hanging limp on shriv- 
eled stems. At last the lengthening 
shadows grew thick and dusky, the 
amber glow faded from the sky, and 
cool, gentle night wrapped the fallen 
giant in sheltering darkness. 

Then through the still forest there 
stole a sound like the rustle of dry 






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4.^1, 



The Menehunes 



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leaves stirred by the wind. The mur- 
mur grew, it spread through the woods, 
and up into the highest reaches of the 
mountains; the ferns and long grasses 
swayed in the breathless air, and from 
the rocks and mossy coverts poured a 
hurrying throng of Menehunes, the 
tiny dwarf folk of Hawaii, who planted 
every tree and fern and shrub in the 
great, wude woods. Gesticulating wildly 
the little brown people swarmed about 
the prostrate tree like fallen leaves caught 
in a whirlwind. They scrambled into 
the branches and scolded, they perched 
on the upturned roots and denounced 
the vandal who had committed the 
dreadful deed. From root to crown 
they covered the massive trunk, and still 
the forest rustled with their coming. 





The Menehunes 



** It is the work of a canoe builder/' 
said the one with the cloak and helmet 
of fine yellow feathers. ^' I know, for 
they cut the roots below the ground so 
as to lose none of the length of the 
tree/' But his voice was scarcely heard 
above the wrathful clamor. 

Then suddenly the noise ceased and 
the Menehunes scattered through the 
forest in all directions. Some sped down 
over the lower hillsides gathering the 
long grass, and as they ran they wove it 
into strong, tough cords; others swiftly 
hewed and trimmed away the broken 
branches, and bound the oozing cuts 
with loam; still others dug the soil 
from about the maimed roots till they 
rested above a deep hole in the ground; 
and at midnight they were ready for 




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the real work. To every twig on 
every branch on the upper side of the 
fallen tree they tied a tiny rope, and 
passed them all over the stoutest limbs 
of the tallest trees, and scores and scores 
of the little people laid hold of each 
line. They braced their feet against 
the rocks, and tugged and pulled till 
their round eyes bulged and their cheeks 
puffed out like balloons. Under the 
great trunk hundreds of little backs 
bent to the utmost strain. Slowly, 
very slowly, the old koa tree rose from 
the ground, an inch, then an ell. The 
moon came out from behind a cloud 
to watch, and the stars forgot to wink 
in the tense excitement. Up, up, every 
man pulling his hardest ; at last the 
great roots dropped into the hole, and 




The Menehunes 




? 5. 



the lines suddenly loosening, the Mene- 
hunes turned somersaults till they landed 
^ in a heap in the bed of a tiny stream. 

While the morning star still shone in 
the heavens, the little people stood tri- 
umphantly about the tree that again 
towered skywards, and mopped their 
hot faces with the cool leaves of the 
ferns. But as the gray-blue sky began 
to redden at the approach of the sun, 
they drifted away out of sight, and the 
whole forest drowsed in the sleepy dawn. 

Hardly, though, had the last Mene- 
hune disappeared when Laka, the canoe 
builder, strode through the forest jun- 
I gle and paused in the koa grove, looking 
about him in dubious wonder. Every 
tree stood in stately dignity; and so far 
as mortal eyes could see, not a stone 







had been turned for ages, not a handful 
of earth disturbed since the first fallen 
leaves changed to mold, for the Mene- 
hunes work well, and they work without 
hurry. 

Down the brown back of the man 
crept a chill of fear; then he shrugged 
his shoulders defiantly, and again choos- 
ing a tree that suited his purpose, one 
after another he slashed off^ the long 
roots where they dug deep into the 
soil, and before the sun set another hale 
old giant of the woods lay quivering 
on its torn branches. 

It was a hard day's work, and the 
tired man shouldered his ax and trudged 
down the mountain to his cabin by the 
sea. But when in the morning he re- 
turned to the forest to trim the log to 






^,/J 



Menehunes 

the length of a canoe, not even a chip 
of all those that had fallen from his ax 
the day before remained to mark the 
spot. The trees all stood in their 
primeval grandeur, grave, august, stu- 
pendously wise; for again the little 
people of the forest had perfectly done 
their work. 

Laka was angry. With a swinging 
blow of his ax that awoke the rolling 
echoes, he attacked another big tree 
with the moon-shaped leaves, and so 
savage were the blows he rained upon 
it that, long before the day was done, 
it, too, crashed to the earth. Then he 
took his calabash out of the net in 
which he had hung it from a branch, 
and sat down to his meager supper of 
pot and dried fish. By and by, after he 





^ ^^£ M^ 






had finished and there was nothing more 
to do but wait, he crept into the shelter 
of the thick leaves and fell asleep. 

When he awoke it was still early. 
The southern cross was barely above 
the horizon, though the last ray of the 
short twilight had long ago hidden 
away in the rift between the sea and 
the sky. Across the heavens like a 
tattered veil streamed the Milky Way, 
and the stars, set deep in the blue vault, 
seemed to crackle and snap, so still and 
dark and silent lay the island world 
beneath them. 

Even in the highest reaches of the 
mountain forest the leaves of the trees 
and the giant ferns hung motionless 
under the spell of the witching night. 





The Menehunes 



among the trees the starlight glistened 
along the loop of a wet vine or lit up 
a hanging dewdrop like a tiny lamp. 

Laka lay still in his leafy shelter 
and watched while the moon rose and 
flooded the space about the fallen tree 
with a clear, silvery light. Stealthily 
the first rustle of a hurrying host again 
sounded through the woods; the soft 
patter grew till it filled the air like the 
hum of a teakettle over a fire, and be- 
fore his eyes the Menehunes bounded 
through the thickets and crowded into 
the open about his hiding-place, chat- 
tering angrily at this new outrage. 

Laka waited till they were well 
within his reach, then he snatched 
three of the little men and popped 
them, one after the other, into the 




calabash and drew the net over them. 
Like shadows the band melted away, 
but from every shelter he saw the 
round, bright eyes watching him anx- 
iously. He crawled out from under 
the branches and set the calabash down 
before him. 

''Now," he said, "let us talk a little 
about this affair of the trees/' 

''We can't talk in this hole," said 
one of the little men, indignantly. 
"You didn't wash your calabash after 



"Oh, you'd like to get out and run 
away, wouldn't you!" exclaimed Laka, 
with a triumphant grin. 

"We couldn't run if we were out," 




gather stones and leaves like a ball of 
snow rolled from the top of Mauna 
Kea. Besides, we give you our word, 
and that a Menehune never breaks." 

When Laka removed the net the 
three little men clamored stiffly from the 
bowl, and each sat carefully down on a 
clean fern frond. A ripple of derisive 
laughter floated out from the shadows. 

^' Do you know," said Laka, sternly, 
**you little people have wasted two 
whole days for me ?" 

*^But the forest is ours, and you 
are wasting our trees!" they exclaimed, 
angrily. 

*^Ay, I know, but a canoe I must 
have," stubbornly answered Laka; *^one 
large enough and strong enough to 
cross the stormy channel. We on the 




coast are fishermen, and our canoes are 
small. Last week a storm arose while 
my father was on the sea. He never 
returned, and our wise men say that his 
boat was blown across to the Maui 
shore. My mother weeps on the sand 
by the edge of the waves and will not 
eat. I must bring my father back or 
she will die. Three times with great 
labor I have felled a tree, and I have 
yet to hew the canoe." 

While Laka spoke, the Menehunes, 
reassured, crept out from their hiding- 
places and stood about him in a half- 
circle, listening with sympathy in their 
big, somber eyes. 

"It is a good cause,'' said one of the 
captured three, glancing stiffly around 
at his companions. 





**Even a tree could serve no better 
purpose/' another said with imposing 
dignity, though much of it was undoubt- 
edly due to the quality and quantity of 
the ^d?/ on his back; and the third, who 
seemed of high importance, though his 
helmet stuck fast to one ear, said : 

*'We, the little people of the forest, 
will make your canoe. Return to the 
village by the sea and build a shelter 
of cocoanut leaves on the beach. Spread 
a supper for us under the shed, for we 
shall be hungry by the time we have 
carried your boat down the mountain, 
and the night will be too far spent for 
us to find our own food. Also, see to 
it that no one spies upon us. Aloha T' 
And all of the Menehunes said in cho- 
'Aloha nut!'' 






:^^ 



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^' Aloha r' said Laka, picking up his 
calabash. He looked regretfully at the 
three who were smeared all over with 
the dull gray poi^ but they waved him 
away, and he left the forest without 
once looking back, for that would have 
been most impolite according to the 
customs of the forest. 

When the three little men who had 
been in the calabash rose from the 
ground, the fern leaves clung to their 
backs, for pot holds fast what it touches. 
Then, for full five minutes by the 
Menehunes' clock in the sky, the cap- 
tives writhed and twisted; but the fern 
stems were tough, and not one among 
all their friends held out a helping 
hand. Instead^ they stood around in a 
circle and laughed till their little knees 






^f 







The Menehunes 



weakened; then they dropped on the 
ground and rocked themselves in breath- 
less glee until, at last, the three broke 
their bonds, fell upon the foremost of 
the mocking crowd, and pummeled 
them well. 

Just how the Menehunes fashioned 
the canoe, no one knows, but the next 
morning, when Laka went to the beach, 
there in the shelter he had built lay 
the slim, graceful craft, perfect from 
stem to stern ; and every morsel of the 
feast that Laka had spread for the 
Menehunes was gone. 




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